Like most Canadians, I'm laying in my bed crying today over billionaires refusing to let millionaires play with pucks and sticks. I simply do not know how I will cope this winter if hockey takes a holiday. Wait. I have it. Let's ask Madonna, Rosie O'Donnell and Geena Davis to put down their baseball gloves and pick up hockey sticks. They can wear short skirts and long underwear and pointy bras. We'll ask Nia Vardalos to talk to Tom Hanks about coaching. We'll call our team something inappropriately aboriginal like The Canadian Squaws. They can spit tabacky through their front teeth and do commercials about their sisters, all of whom have a mental illness. You know who you are. Seriously. Who gives a shit? Not me. I only watch hockey during the playoffs like most Canadian wives. Mostly, I drink beer and watch for Don Cherry whom I find hilarious. Seriously, he could give Carson Kressley a run for his money in the fashion business, in the blatantly hetero...
More than a million served!